


Say Yes

by hellbrokeluce



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Back From Hiatus, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-18 04:12:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5897758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellbrokeluce/pseuds/hellbrokeluce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loras and Renly are getting married. When Renly decides to use the upcoming wedding as an opportunity to make peace with his estranged older brother, Stannis, everyone involved gets more than they bargained for- especially Sansa Stark. </p><p>Modern AU with STRONG RomCom overtones. Multi-Chapter, IN PROGRESS - PG for now but definitely with smut to come!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Proposal

The bar was loud.

Well, it was the kind of bar that was always loud, but tonight was New Year's Eve and so people were packed into the small space like sardines and Sansa could barely even hear herself think, let alone decipher what Margaery was trying to shout at her from not even a foot away.

"Another! Drink!" finally made it's way over the noise, and Sansa didn't even bother using words, just nodded her head in response and she pointed over her shoulder hoping the message 'going to find a table' was obvious enough. Margie grinned, nodding, and squeezed through the bodies over to the bar. 

Behind the bar was Bronn, with his crooked smile and broad shoulders, and he was not only a good bartender but was also an exceptionally good boyfriend- he saw her coming and had two beers out and ready, happily accepting her kiss as payment.

Sansa took the opportunity to slip behind some random people coming through to snatch their recently-abandoned table. 

"Hey, I was waiting for that table."

Sansa smelled the guy who spoke before she saw him. She hadn't noticed him before- his uniform of cargo shorts and popped collar camouflaged him excellently with the crowd- until he reached out to grab the chair next to her and her eyes watered. Did this guy bathe in cologne? 

"Sorry, I was here first," Sansa smiled sweetly at him and didn't budge.

The guy made no effort to move away from the table, either, except to step closer to her. He reached out, boldly taking one of her red curls between two fingers. "Well, you're pretty cute," he leaned closer to speak directly into her ear. "Maybe we can share."

Before Sansa could open her mouth to reply, a big hand came down on the guy's shoulder from behind him. He tried to shrug it off, turning to spout off at whoever had the nerve to touch him, but Sansa saw the words die in his throat as he took in the impressive figure of Sandor Clegane.

"This guy bothering you?" Sandor growled out. 

"I think he was just leaving?" Sansa tilted her head at the guy, crossing her arms in front of her chest defensively.

"I see how it is," the guy sneered, finally shaking the bouncer's hand off and smartly deciding to find another table.

"Thanks, Sandor," Sansa smiled with relief as soon as the guy was gone. Crisis averted- she was not really in the mood to deal with jerks tonight, and though she knew that Sandor would have gladly hung that guy up to dry for her she was glad it hadn't come to that. "Been a busy night for you?"

Sandor shrugged. "Just a few handsy douchebags like that one so far." With a nod of his head, he disappeared back into the crowd.

Sansa sighed, leaning back into her chair. She took out her compact to double check her lipstick, snapping it shut and looking up to find the still-flirting Margaery just in time to watch as Bronn snapped her best friend's ass with the bar towel as she turned to leave. Even all the way back here she could hear Margie's squeal over the music. 

"Gods, you guys are gross," she teased as her roommate slid the beer into her hands, taking a sip. She hadn't even wanted to come out tonight, and definitely didn't want to deal with a hangover tomorrow- not when she had to work- but the call of a free beer was simply too tempting to ignore.

"Whatever, stereotypically-jaded-single-friend," Margie stuck her tongue out. "No, gross is what's going on over there." She pointed to the table beside them, and Sansa looked to see two bodies making out as if their very lives depended on the oxygen from the other's mouth. The girls laughed, and Margie balled up her napkin to throw at them.

Her brother looked up just in time to dodge it, laughing as well. He kissed Renly once more with a smile before jumping up and crashing over to the girls. "I'm getting married!"

The girls were both struck dumb for a moment. "What?" Margie finally reacted, the word bubbling out of her mouth in a wave of laughter. She jumped up and down, arms flying around her brother's neck. "What!"

Loras reached out and pulled Sansa into the fray, an arm around each of them. "He just asked! Right now, and I said yes!"

"Of course you said yes!" Sansa kissed him on the cheek. She was squeezed tighter between the two Tyrell's- her two dearest friends on this Earth. "Congratulations!" 

Over the music, the crowd around them began counting down to midnight- "Ten! Nine! Eight!" 

"I've got to go tell Bronn!" Marge was still hopping and she clapped her hands excitedly. She did a little spin and then disappeared towards the bar again. 

Loras gave Sansa another embrace, laughing. "I'm going to go kiss my fiancé!" 

As both of her best friends went off in separate directions away from her, Sansa leaned against the little table and twisted her beer in her hands. 

"Four! Three!"

She looked around at the crowd as the whole bar scrambled for a partner to kiss- laughing, smiling, shouting.

"Two! ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Throwing back the last of her beer in one swift drink, she grabbed her bag and headed for the back door.

The air outside was sharp, trying to get inside of her thin jacket and chill her bones, but her destination wasn't far. She wrapped her arms around herself, hugging the leather tighter to her body as she headed south down the sidewalk in the direction of the apartment that she and the two Tyrells shared- though Loras had spent the better part of the last year crashing over at Renly's swanky loft. She supposed with their engagement the move would finally become official. 

Even though he already wasn't around as much anymore, Sansa would still miss Loras like crazy once he officially moved out. It would be the end of an era- he had been practically her first friend here in Kings Landing.

Loras had been modeling since he was a teenager, famous for his dashing good looks, and when they met he had gone out of his way to be kind to the young, gangly newbie visiting from up North on her first professional photoshoot. When she'd decided to move to Kings Landing to pursue modeling full time and had needed a place to stay not too long after that, he and his sister- the then-unkown singer, Margaery- had welcomed Sansa into their apartment and their lives with wide open arms.

Sansa hadn't understood it then, and definitely wasn't used to it- that warm, open kindness- but had since come to realize that it was just simply how they functioned: fiercely loving, fiercely loyal.

So much in all of their lives had changed in the four years that she'd been here in the capital. She'd accumulated a strange little mix of folks to help ease the pain of the family she'd lost- Margie and Loras, sweet Renly, even Bronn and the ever-intimidating Sandor- and couldn't imagine life without them. And now Loras and Renly were getting married! She could hardly wrap her brain around it. 

Sansa let herself in the front door of her building, and skipped the lobby's elevator to start up the first flight of stairs. It took her a good little while to reach their apartment on the sixth floor, but it still wasn't long enough to shake the feeling growing in her stomach that everything in her life was about to change.


	2. Brunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stuff I forgot for the first chapter:
> 
> -obviously don't own anything, if that needs to be said.  
> -totally not beta-d and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are totally my bad.  
> -title is from the song 'say yes' by the afternoons :) if I were to say that I was not making a rom-com playlist to accompany this fic I would be a liar
> 
> thank you guys for reading, and an extra big thank you to everyone who's commented and kudos-d. stansa is my secret ship that i finally couldn't contain any longer!!!

Rolling over with a satisfied sigh, Sansa snuggled down into her blankets and wrapped her arms around the large, warm figure beside her. The figure welcomed her happily, a warm and wet tongue against her face.

"Lady!" she groaned, wiping the large dog's slobber off of her face with the back of her hand. "Dang it." She had been having such a nice dream, too- she already couldn't quite remember what it was, just that it was pleasant. As the remaining saliva began to dry on her face and hand, the dream became fainter and further away from her grasp.

Feeling resigned, she twisted herself out of her sheets, and stretched into the sunlight that filtered through her curtains.

"Oh, Gods!" she snatched her clock off of the nightstand. It was already after 10, and she was supposed to be at the restaurant across town by 11. She scrambled out of the bed, earning a curiously cocked head from Lady as she stumbled her way over to the closet and rifled through her belongs to find a suitable dress. 

She found one- nice, but not too fancy; it's above-the-knee hemline not quite seasonally appropriate for the last week of January, but a problem easily solved with some tights and a cardigan- and slid into some boots.

"I'll feed you when I get back!" she promised on her way out the bedroom door. Lady, still comfortable amidst Sansa's warm blankets, continued to look totally nonplussed.

Making her way through the apartment, she grabbed up her purse. Her cell phone was almost dead from being tucked inside a pocket all night long, but there was plenty of juice to display the increasingly frantic texts from Margie.

"Shit, shit, shit." She tapped out a quick response- yes, she was alive, and yes, she had overslept just a teeny bit but was already en route- on her way out of the apartment, twisting the lock behind her.

On any other day she would take the stairs- she enjoyed the exercise and was normally too impatient to wait for the notoriously slow monstrosity that was this buildings elevator. But, she supposed even the slowest elevator in the world- a contest in which this one was a strong contender- would be quicker than taking the six flights by foot. She was barely into the lift when she began mashing her finger repeatedly against the lobby button, silently pleading for it be quick about things for once since it's construction. When she felt the elevator begin to move- at a snail's pace- she heaved a dejected sigh and leaned against the cool wall. After brushing through her hair with her fingers and pulling it into a quick chunky braid, she sent off a quick apology text to Loras.

Margie and Loras had taken off hours ago to take care of various family matters, but after the crazy long night she'd had at work Sansa had decided to catch a little extra sleep and meet them at the restaurant. This brunch was the first time the entire wedding party was getting together all in one place to meet and begin discussing the details of who was going to do what, and Sansa was already embarrassing herself.

Breaking into a run as soon as the elevator's doors opened up wide enough for her to squeeze through, she tore through the lobby and threw her hand into the air to hail a cab.

\--

If one were to compile a list of Things That Stannis Found Pointless, not only would it be quite long, but both 'small talk' and 'brunch' would be very close to the top. He steeled himself, because he knew he was about to endure both.

He still hadn't quite figured out what it was that had led him to this point. Stannis Baratheon was not one who could be called exceptionally sentimental, but something somehow had stirred inside of him when his brother had called him to announce his engagement, and before he really even registered what was happening he found himself agreeing to take part.

It had been the first time they had talked in years. Robert, he supposed, had been the glue that had tentatively held the brothers together. No one could say that the brothers had been close, with the significant age gap between each of them and the fact that they all had little in common. If anything, Robert and Renly had been closer to each other than Stannis had been to either- but at least before Robert's accident they had actually resembled some form of a family. 

After Robert's death almost three years ago, there were no more family events and holidays to dutifully attend. That had been all that had really made Stannis attend in the first place, his sense of duty. He supposed that was probably what had uncoiled inside of him when Renly had called- his duty as Renly's older brother, his only remaining older brother, to stand by his side as the Best Man.

It was a role that Robert would have relished in- boisterously good-natured and sentimentally proud, Robert always had been the life of the party in any situation, but would have especially thrived at the youngest Baratheon brother's wedding. 

The irony that the mantle now fell to him was not lost on Stannis.

It seemed as if the wedding would, thankfully, be a rather intimate affair with Renly and Loras planning most of the details themselves. It seemed as if his Best Man duties would not be too taxing, so when Renly had requested his presence at this first brunch, that damned dutiful nature of his made him agree to attend.

Arriving promptly at ten, the hostess had shown him to the private table reserved for the wedding party in the back of the restaurant. Renly was already there, as was Loras- both of them grinning from ear to ear, in matching cream-colored sports coats.

Stannis had truly only met Loras a handful of times. He knew that he was a male model- well, everyone in Westeros knew that- and that he and Renly had met at some party on a yacht, of all places. That fact fit so totally with Renly's whole character and image- a playboy reputation and an obscenely lavish lifestyle... just a few of the traits Renly had shared with their late older brother.

Robert's daughter Myrcella was also already present, and milling around the table. Stannis hadn't seen her since her father's death, either, when she had seemed little more than a child. Now eighteen, she was taller, as golden and beautiful as her insufferable mother, but- as always- decidedly more pleasant. 

"Uncle Stannis!" she greeted him warmly. She came over to embrace him. The resulting hug was as stiff and awkward as the man himself, but he tried to smile at her as she pulled away. "Isn't this so exciting? I can't wait for the wedding!"

"Indeed," Stannis nodded solemnly.

Renly and Loras had been pulled into in a deep discussion with a waiter, so Myrcella seemed to take it upon herself to introduce Stannis to the only other person already seated at the table.

"This is Margaery Tyrell, Loras's sister," she motioned to the woman closest to where they stood/ She had her brother's delicately beautiful features, and could almost pass for his twin. "Margie, this is my Uncle Stannis."

"Nice to meet you," Margaery offered with a warm smile. Stannis reached out to shake her hand, the formality of which caused her smile to quirk on one side in amusement, but she indulged him nonetheless.

Stannis began to withdraw and find a seat, but then remembered his promise to Renly to try and act sociable. He mentally fumbled around for something to say.

Luckily, sweet Myrcella seemed to recognize his plight. "Margie is a musician, did you know? She's about to release another album here in a few weeks- the last one went platinum! And, can you believe it, she's going to sing at the wedding!"

Margaery laughed. "Well, if Loras wants me to. He's usually telling me to shut up!"

Stannis hoped he was smiling as he nodded. "I'm sure it will be lovely." Small talk- mission accomplished. He made his way over to an empty chair.

"Is this... everyone?" he asked Myrcella as she came down to sit beside him. He knew the wedding party was small but wasn't expecting only five people including the grooms.

"We're still waiting on Sansa," Myrcella leaned in to say quietly. "You remember Sansa Stark?"

Stannis didn't recall the girl, but his ears pricked at the last name. "Ned Stark's daughter?"

Ned Stark had been Robert's best friend- the friend he more often referred to as his 'brother' than he had his own flesh and blood. Ned and his wife's deaths five years ago had taken it's toll on his brother- the drinking and recklessness had increased tenfold in his grief. Stannis hadn't really known the Ned Stark or his family, but the more he mulled it over he could indeed remember vaguely hearing of a young girl by the name of Sansa.

Myrcella nodded. "She moved here to King's Landing after her parent's died. She met Loras because they both model, I suppose, and then they became roommates. When I was introduced to her after Loras got with Uncle Renly, I couldn't hardly believe it was really her! It's a small world, I guess."

"Indeed."


	3. The Plant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally, the meet-cute! this chapter is slightly longer. I have the story outlined but am writing as I go, so bear with me.

By the time Sansa made it into the restaurant, she knew she looked like a mess. 

Traffic outside had the cars backed up for god knows how far, so she'd climbed out and ran the remaining blocks. Red-faced and heaving, bent over to try and catch her breath, she could feel her hair coming out of its braid. Pushing the flyaway strands away from her face, she tried to compose herself enough to approach the hostess without looking like a complete maniac.

The look on the hostess's face told her she was not entirely successful. 

"Baratheon-Tyrell party, please?"

Everyone else was already there, seated and eating. They all looked up from their plates as she entered, and Sansa just wanted to melt into a puddle and disappear.

"Hi, guys," she squeaked out. She cleared her throat, slinging her purse over her shoulder. "I am so sorry for being late."

"Sansa, please! You're fine." Loras waved her over with a smile, either not noticing or deciding to ignore Renly's annoyance. "Have a seat, we'll get you some food!"

Sansa began to shuffle her way around the table to the open seat. Margie pinched her as she passed, mouthing the word 'dead'. 

Sansa opened her mouth to apologize once more, but as she had turned to rub her pinched arm her step faltered just enough for her to find herself knocking into Stannis Baratheon.

She had never met Stannis before- he was the only person at the table she didn't know. But she had heard enough about the man- his rather dour personality, his uptight sense of propriety, his general annoyance with people in general. Renly had been giving everyone a pep talk for days about his desire for everything in this wedding to go absolutely smoothly to meet his older brother's exact standards. Having impressive older siblings and feeling as if you would never live up to them was a feeling Sansa was acutely aware of. 

So, of course, he was the one she had plowed into. Her feet made contact with the back of his chair, knocking him forward just as he was taking a drink of water, sloshing down onto his front.

"I am so sorry!" She grabbed a napkin to to try and help him dab at the mess, but he reached out and his large hand gripped her wrist like a vise. "Let me help!"

"You've done enough, thank you," he gritted out, gently but firmly pushing her hand away from him. "Just sit."

Sansa could feel her face flaming with embarrassment. With another soft apology, she sat in the open seat, wishing it were absolutely anywhere else but next to this man.

\--

Stannis was thankful when the waiters finally started to bring out the food. He hadn't ventured into the realm of small-talk again, but at least with everyone eating he felt his awkwardness wasn't quite so apparent.

He felt out of place. He was only thirty-four but somehow the present company made him feel positively ancient. Despite also growing up in a monied family and making a more-than-modest living in his chosen career, with this group's talks of various lavish red carpet events and wild vacations, Stannis supposed that even if he was their age he would not have much in common with these glamorous twenty-somethings. 

Myrcella was positively struck by Loras's sister, and as the Stark girl's chair remained empty she had scooted over to occupy the space so that she could ask Margaery various starry-eyed questions. Instead of being insulted, Stannis tried to contain his sigh of relief. Eighteen year old girls were like a foreign species to him- he was much more comfortable with his own thoughts.

He had just began mentally reviewing his workshop's inventory when a young woman quite suddenly barged into the room, shocking everyone into silence. She looked positively insane- her hair was a red mess of flyaway and frizz, struggling to escape it's haphazard braid, her face red and chest heaving as if she had just ran a mile. Her cardigan was misbuttoned over a wrinkled yellow mess of a dress, and her boots were two completely different colors. Had she gotten dressed in the dark? She looked like she'd just stumbled in from a madhouse.

She began apologizing, making her way over to the table. His frown deepened as he realized this obviously was Sansa Stark and she would have to sit next to him in Myrcella's vacated seat. Just when he thought he'd firmly dodged any remaining small-talk, this literal crazy person was being firmly inserted into his personal space. He took a drink of his water to try and settle his nerves about the whole idea of it, but the glass had barely reached his lips before he was suddenly wearing it all down the front of his dress shirt and blazer.

Sansa was apologizing again, this time directly at him and was reaching over his plate for his napkin, bringing the cloth up to his clothes to try and dab at the spill. 

"Let me help!" she was saying, and her breasts were directly in his face as she fussed over him, and Stannis could feel himself growing hot behind his ears in embarrassment at the whole situation. He grabbed her wrist before she could get any closer, firmly pushing her away.

"You've done enough, thank you. Just sit."

The girl sat and he could tell she was just as embarrassed as he was. A plate was set in front of her, and she pushed the food around with her fork without trying it.

By the time Stannis had cleaned himself up as best as he could, his appetite was gone as well. This was quite enough excitement for one day as far as he was concerned; he longed for nothing more that to be back in his shop in peaceful solitude.

The frazzled redhead set down her fork, leaning closer to him. Stannis stiffened in a mixture of anticipation and dread.

"I'm not going to spill on you again," she assured him with a small self-depreciating smile. "I'm Sansa." She stuck her hand out to him to shake, which he did reluctantly. 

"I know," he replied, when he remembered that most people usually speak when spoken to.

Sansa waited for a beat for him to continue, but when he remained silent she cleared her throat a little. "So... you're Stannis, Renly's older brother. And Uncle Robert's, too, I suppose. My father-"

"Was Ned Stark, yes, I know."

Again, the conversation- if you could call it that- fell flat. His neighbor went back to pushing her food on her plate.

Stannis went back to wishing he could disappear.

\--

Sansa tried to tell herself that Renly had warned her- had warned everyone- about how prickly his brother was. According to Renly, Stannis had always been terribly awkward and grumpy since as far back as he could remember, and his self-imposed exile in the woods for the last two and a half years had done nothing to improve his disposition. Her little accident had certainly not been the cause of his mood, but it certainly had not improved matters any. 

She tried to make conversation with him, but immediately gathered that he was not the small talk type. That was fine with Sansa- she took the time to finish composing herself. By the time the waiters cleared the table and the wedding talk began winding down, Sansa almost felt like a normal human again.

As everyone stood up and began gathering their things, Margie shrugged into her jacket and made her way over to Sansa, with Myrcella on her heels. "What the hell, San? I can't believe that you overslept." She lowered her voice, nodding her head across the small room where Stannis had milled over to Renly, taking in hushed tones. "You certainly made a great impression on Renly's brother!" 

Sansa grimaced, her face warming in embarrassment. "I know, I feel awful. I hope Renly's not too upset with me."

Myrcella chimed in with a giggle. "Uncle Stannis is always that way, don't worry. That's probably the most excitement he's had in ages, a pretty girl fawning over him!"

Margie laughed then, too. "Well, that's certainly the most action San has seen here lately!"

Sansa frowned. "I wasn't... fawning." She crossed her arms. "And I get action. I have plenty of action."

Margie and Myrcella were dissolving into a fit of giggles. Sansa's frown deepened, eyebrows furrowing. "I think I need to use the bathroom."

She didn't wait for a reply before heading out to the hallway and slipping into the restroom. She knew they were just teasing but she didn't think she could handle being the butt of the joke after the nightmarish morning she'd endured thus far. 

In the bathroom, she dropped her purse into the counter and took a good look at herself in the mirror. She looked absolutely hellish. She splashed some water onto her face, and tried to use some of it to smooth out the worst of the frizz in her hair. She dried her hands, using the paper towel underneath her armpits for good measure. 

Stepping back, she tried to smooth some of the wrinkles out of her dress- it hadn't seemed quite so wrinkled back in her closet; there wasn't really much she could do about it now- and gave herself and her outfit a once-over. 

"Aw, fuck!" She yanked at her cardigan, noticing her buttons were off. She pulled the sweater off of her body and with a squeal of frustration threw it against the wall. Was having absolutely everything go wrong on this day a requirement of some kind?

Sansa closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Calm, relaxing breaths- in through her nose, out through her mouth. Time to go back out there... and screw Margie and her dumb jokes. Just ignore Margie; maybe she should try talking to Stannis again so that he wouldn't be too hard on Renly. Another jab at small talk, maybe make a joke at her own expense? Lighten the mood a bit. 

Surely she hadn't truly messed anything up for Renly in the eyes of his brother, she was just blowing it all out of proportion in her mind- as she was often guilty of doing. Surely Stannis couldn't be all that much of a sourpuss, surely he would see the humor of the situation.

Nodding resolutely at her reflection and giving herself a thumbs-up, she picked up her cardigan and marched out of the bathroom with new purpose.

Just as she was about to round the corner, Stannis came out of the private room where everyone was still milling around. He was distracted, bringing his phone up to his ear, and upon seeing him Sansa immediately lost all nerve- what was that joke she was going to tell him? Before she could even really register what she was doing and before he could notice her, she found herself hiding behind one of the restaurant's large potted plants and feeling quite ridiculous. 

"Yes, it's over. Thank god," Stannis was grumbling into his cellphone. 

Did he ever sound pleasant? Sansa wondered.  
Well, she rationalized with herself, she couldn't come out now and interrupt his conversation, that would be just rude and what if he thought she was eavesdropping? 

"They weren't terrible." He was continuing to whoever was on the other line. "For friends of Renly's, that is."

Sansa huffed a little, glaring at him through the leaves of the plant. 

"No, she was perfectly pleasant. Her little friend is an absolute nightmare... Yeah, Stark. She was a complete mess. Her boots were two different colors, for god's sake."

Sansa looked down at her boots. They were! The same style, but one black and the other blue. She groaned- she was a mess, maybe. Especially this morning. But calling her an 'absolute nightmare' was a little harsh.

She knew that she couldn't leave now; she was in too deep. Not exactly wanting to hear any more, though, she tried to tune him out, but bits and pieces came through nonetheless.

"... no regard for personal space... completely rude... disrespectful... obviously crazy..."

She couldn't believe that this man could be so thoroughly displeased with her as a person after just meeting her. She finally had enough. 

"Excuse me!" She climbed out of the plant as gracefully as she could manage. "Sir. You are being incredibly rude."

The look on Stannis's face as he watched her emerge would be hilarious under any other circumstances. But Sansa was not laughing.

"Listen," she continued. "I had a pretty rough morning. I know I look a little worse for wear, and was late, and spilled your drink all over you. And now I'm in a plant and you think I'm spying on you, probably, but I wasn't, I promise..." She was rambling. She took a deep breath and tried to focus. "But! You, sir, are rude! And completely unpleasant! I've never met someone so completely unpleasant, but still I wasn't going to judge you quite so harshly, or say mean things about you behind your back!"

Stannis's hand dropped from beside his head, his phone hanging uselessly at his side. He was silent, gaping at her like a fish. 

Sansa had fully committed to this rant, and was just getting wound up. "You don't even know me!" She jabbed her finger at him. "You don't know anything about me. I am not stupid or crazy- I am nice!" Another jab. "And I know you probably think that because I can't even handle a stupid brunch that I will mess up the wedding. But I just want you to know that I am a good friend, to your brother and Loras. They mean a lot to me, so I'm not going to mess up even if that means that I have to spend the next few months with you!"

And with that, she slung her purse over her shoulder and walked straight out of the restaurant, leaving a completely baffled Stannis Baratheon in her wake.


	4. Dog Person

Stannis Baratheon was not one to gossip. He didn't find himself particularly cruel or petty, either, despite what seemed to be popular opinion. When Davos- probably the only man he could call a true friend- had called with some questions about the shipment of lumber arriving that day and had asked him how his brother's brunch had went, Stannis didn't know what came over him.

It was that girl. Sansa Stark. He didn't know exactly what it was but just hearing her name had been enough to get him riled up into a state he couldn't remember ever quite being in before. 

The residual embarrassment of the whole awkward situation she had created, her encroachment into his personal space like a damn wrecking ball, just the complete impropriety of it all-

And then, before his very eyes, she had crawled out of a damn plant like some kind of animal, eyes blazing, having heard every unkind word that he'd vented out into poor Davos's ear. 

For someone who was supposed to be a model, she had been terribly graceless the entire morning. Her anger at him- completely justifiable anger, he supposed, even if she had been eavesdropping- that she unleashed once untangled from the plant had brought her the most poise that he'd seen from her thus far.

Stannis couldn't quite put his finger on what he was feeling even here, hours later in the comfort of his own home. Further embarrassment? Shame, perhaps?

It was something completely foreign to him, and he decided he did not like it. 

There was something else inside of him, down in the pit of his stomach- he needed to apologize. It rose up the back of his throat like bile, and he felt like he would choke on it. 

His brother's wedding party was almost painfully small. Four people- the closest people to the two grooms in the world, their chosen family. Stannis could still hardly believe that Renly had counted himself amongst the number, as estranged as they've been. Also included in the number was Sansa Stark- as maddening as she was turning out to be- and that was something that Stannis could not and would not take lightly. 

So, he would apologize to her. For Renly. 

He reached into his pocket, and pulled out the convenient little card that Renly and Loras had given to the party that morning at brunch. A small directory of phone numbers- 'in case of emergencies' they had said- with Sansa Stark listed at the very bottom. 

Should he call? Or text? It didn't seem appropriate to apologize over the phone in either case. After a few drafts, he finally settled on this:

'I believe we got off on the wrong foot. Let me know when we could meet, at your earliest convenience, to discuss. -Stannis'

It was the best of both words- the informality of texting, as all young people seemed to prefer nowadays, but still the benefit of apologizing in person. Success.

He received a reply almost instantly.

'at work, stop by', followed by the address. 

Well, then.

\--

He didn't know what he was expecting the workplace of a glamorous fashion model to look like- in fact, so far everything about Sansa Stark was rather contrary to what he would have believed a fashion model to be like. But he could honestly say that, as he made his way up the winding gravel road out here in the middle of nowhere, this was not what he had in mind.

There was a small, squat building at the end of the road- which was more of a long driveway, he supposed- with a large fenced-in enclosure off to one side, and the entire compound was surrounded by trees. Though the building itself was not much to look at, it sure was a beautiful view... and it was completely overrun by dogs.

Small ones, big ones- a little terrier, a great shining retriever, a large loping bulldog, a number of unidentifiable friendly mutts- all running around inside the enclosure, all clamoring into one corner as Stannis's car came to a stop nearby. 

Was she some kind of dog model? Was that a thing? Was he even in the right place?

He opened his car door hesitantly, and was immediately rushed by a great white husky.

"Lady!" a voice hollered from a distance. "Lady, wait!" A rather large woman with a short, severe haircut came jogging up to catch the husky by the collar. "Sorry about that," she said to Stannis. Her voice was pleasantly deep. Stannis was tall, but this woman practically dwarfed him, and he had to look up to meet her gaze. "What can I help you with?"

"Is there a Sansa Stark here?"

The woman suddenly had quite the knowing look on her face. Stannis wondered at exactly who she was and what she's heard about that morning's mishaps. 

She pursed her lips, and jerked her head towards the enclosure. "She's about to feed the dogs."

Stannis looked in the direction the woman had indicated, and Sansa was indeed making her way into the enclosure, and the dogs looked positively ecstatic. She was balancing seven or eight different food bowls in her arms, and laid them out one by one. 

Sansa looked up from her task as Stannis approached, and he noted that she did not look pleased to see him. 

"What is this?" he asked, momentarily forgetting his set task as his curiosity got the best of him. 

"It's a rescue shelter for dogs," she said with a wave of her hand. "Obviously."

"I thought you were a model?" Stannis was confused. Looking at her more closely, he could tell that she was indeed quite beautiful- certainly beautiful enough to be a model, even as she was currently dressed in her baggy t-shirt and leggings, her knees and shoes caked in mud. 

Sansa blushed a little. "I used to be, I guess. I was never really cut out for all of that, not like Loras. I spend most of my time here."

He was intrigued. "What do you do?"

Sansa wiped her hands on her thighs, trying to brush some of the dirt off. "Well, Brienne- who you met down there- she's the owner, and she's a vet. I just help her out rehabilitating the dogs, and cleaning up and stuff like that. Mostly me and Lady just hang out and play with everyone.

As if on cue, the white husky trotted up to Stannis and stuck her nose into the hand hanging at his side, finagling a pet out of him. He looked down into her big friendly brown eyes, and felt a smile play at his mouth- it was not unpleasant. He scratched at the top of her head and was rewarded by a large wagging tail beating against his leg.

Sansa opened up the gate, and Stannis was immediately forgotten as Lady loped over to her owner, tongue wagging. 

"She likes you," Sansa said, the 'not that I understand why' was implied.

That reminded Stannis of his purpose. "I wanted to... apologize for my behavior this morning," he managed to get out before he could change his mind. It was for Renly, he reminded himself. "I don't know what came over me, to say such things. It's not usually in my nature."

Sansa leaned against the fence, keeping her distance from him. "You don't seem to be the type of man with a particularly friendly nature even on a good day."

This took Stannis by surprise. He wasn't used to people being quite so frank with him- even Davos tended to pussyfoot around any kind of unpleasant truth until Stannis himself usually drug it out of him. "You think I'm a jerk."

Stannis wasn't a fool; he knew that most people probably considered him a jerk. It was strange to hear someone say it to his face.

Sansa barked out a surprised laugh. "Well, you said I was a complete nightmare! That was kind of a jerk move."

"You were eavesdropping. Isn't that a 'jerk move'?"

"I was not! Well, I was, but it was an accident. I wasn't trying to." Sansa sighed, rubbing her face. "Okay, so we're both jerks, then. But like I said... I was having a bad morning. What's your excuse?"

When Stannis didn't provide an answer, Sansa grabbed him by the arm and began pulling him gently toward the gate. Lady wound around their feet happily. "Here," she said, "Do you like dogs?"

Stannis made a noncommittal noise. He had never had a dog before, or considered himself a 'dog person'- or any kind of particular pet type person at all. "I had a bird once. She had a broken wing when I found her."

He didn't know why he felt the need to tell this strange girl about Proudwing, but when she turned back to look at him with softened eyes he was glad he did.

"So you're not completely heartless," she teased. He immediately prickled in self defense, but she was laughing so prettily that he knew it wasn't malicious. He couldn't remember ever being teased by a pretty girl before, only fielding the sharp japes of his brothers.

Sansa knelt down to scoop a small dog with a little cast on its hind leg into her arms. "Here, this little guy had a broken leg when we found him," she looked at Stannis encouragingly, motioning him closer. "Pet him. He's sweet."

Stannis obliged, patting the pup's head awkwardly, which caused Sansa to laugh again. 

"Don't worry, you can relax a little. He doesn't think you're a jerk."

Stannis clenched his jaw. Was she teasing him again? This woman was confusing. "I said I was sorry," he sighed. "What else do you want from me?"

"I know, I know," she chuckled. "Hey, if you're truly sorry and want to make it up to me, I have just the idea."


	5. Intrigued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting back into the swing of it

As the circular saw died down, Stannis lifted it out of the way and leaned in, blowing the sawdust off the untreated softwood as he inspected his handiwork. 

His workshop was filled with projects- numerous door and drawer fronts waiting for their applied molding to be installed, a large live-edge dining room table with half of its matching chairs, a breathtaking set of period-correct 1860 Italianate doors that he was particularly proud of that he'd only just finished that morning- each of them crafted with precise care. These were the types of projects that he had built his career and reputation on over the years. It was far from a glamorous job, but a loving type of labour- many hours spent removing metal from the reclaimed wood and splinters from his hands, meticulously sanding and finishing each piece.

High-end exotic lumber, stunning slabs of beautiful burl wood, and numerous pieces of salvaged driftwood of varying sizes lined the walls of his large workshop, but found himself thoroughly engrossed with the simple fir plywood currently in his hands. 

He had never built a dog house before. 

Stannis had constructed almost every component of his own home himself. He was proud of his little cabin and workshop, nestled here in the woods and miles away from his nearest neighbor. He loved the peace and solitude, the way he could simply absorb himself in his work and go days without even seeing a living soul, save for Davos's regular visits. He could disappear into each project, pouring himself into each chair and table and cabinet and, well, now this dog house. 

When Sansa had suggested he donate an item to her shelter's charity auction, he had been happy to oblige. Woodworking was his passion and most definitely his element, and he had immediately began drafting plans in his mind on the perfect project.

This strange girl most definitely intrigued him. She was beautiful- he wasn't blind- but it wasn't her delicate features or slender form that had kept him up every night this week, tossing and turning beneath his sheets until he finally gave up and watched the sun rise from his deck in the cool pacific northwest air. 

He had stayed a bit longer at the shelter that day after Sansa had accepted his apology and witnessed her in action. She had definitely seemed more graceful and at ease with her four-legged companions than she had been at that dreadful brunch, which was something he could definitely relate to. He supposed that was what had started to draw him to her.

He thought of the the mud on her pants and beneath her fingernails as she had scrounged around in the dirt to find one of the dog's favorite rubber balls, laugh-shouting out in triumph as she pulled it from the earth. He thought of the way her eyebrows had furrowed in concentration and the loving concern in her eyes as she had helped the vet Brienne change the dressing on an injured retriever's paw. He thought of the way she had smiled at him when he had agreed to attend their charity event with a prize in tow, as if she perhaps didn't actually think he was such a jerk anymore. 

He couldn't quite remember the last time he had wanted to impress someone. His furniture and woodworking were his art- he did it for himself, and it was just good fortune that people happened to like the pieces enough to buy them and for him to able to make a living off of them. But as he assembled this dog house, he found himself hoping that this strange girl would like it. 

He scowled at his own foolishness, but couldn't shake it completely. What was happening to him?

\-- 

The look on Brienne's face when Sansa told her that The Stannis Baratheon had agreed to donate a handcrafted item to their auction had been positively priceless. 

Brienne had spent the following hour or so googling everything about the man- looking at his portfolio, the numerous features on the artist and his work in various publications both local and national, the price tag attached to some of his more recent works.

"That says it's how much?" She had squinted at the screen. "For a chair!"

Sansa leaned into the desk, peering at the screen herself. "Well, for a set of chairs. It is, indeed, a lot of zeros, though."

Brienne's eyebrows looked like they were about to fly off of her forehead. "You didn't mention that the guy you tore into like a madwoman was some fancy millionaire artist."

Sansa shrugged. "He's just a man. And a rather unpleasant one, at that. I don't see what having a lot of money has to do with anything."

"Well," Brienne started. "He came all the way out here to apologize to you, so that's not so bad. And now, offering to donate to the auction..." she whistled. "Definitely not a jerk move. I mean, a big ticket item like that could set us for quite a while."

Sansa grinned at her friend. "He didn't exactly... offer. I kind of told him to. To make things up to me."

"Sansa!" Brienne nudged her. "Well, then I would say someone has a not-so-secret admirer who's eager to please."

Sansa had told her to shove it, but as she had packed Lady into her little Jeep and made her way home that night, Brienne's words and laughter had followed her the entire way. The whole following week, she found herself thinking of this strange, intense man who had made his way into her life most abruptly, and couldn't quite pin down how she felt about him. 

She was definitely intrigued.

Her first impression, of course, was of a dour and stuffy killjoy. Severe and daunting. But... he wasn't particularly unattractive- dark hair and brooding eyes, a trim figure and high cheekbones. Nice hands, she had noticed with a blush. The whole 'dark and mysterious' type was a thing lots of women went for, wasn't it? And the little bit of time she had spent with him, she had witnessed bits and pieces of that sour facade chip away, exposing the character underneath. He was still quite intense- one of the most intense people she thinks she's ever met. But she got the overwhelming impression that perhaps he was just... shy. Quiet, and uneasy around people. Maybe not quite so different from herself.

She smiled at the thought. 

Tomorrow evening was definitely going to be... interesting.


	6. Brothers

Sansa poured herself another cup of coffee from the almost-empty pot, warming her hands on the steaming mug as she made her way from the flat's small kitchen to the open living area currently hosting the lounging and mostly pajama-clad bodies of her friends.

Margie was taking up the most space, sprawled over the sofa and nested in just about every blanket they owned- the only parts of her visible was the top of her head and a hand that darted out from the layers occasionally to bring pieces of the leftover chinese food that made up her breakfast balanced delicately on top of the pile of blankets alternately into her own mouth and over to the begging husky on the floor by her side, who gobbled each morsel happily.

The chaise lounge opposite Margie was occupied by Renly, with Loras planted on the floor in front of him. The younger man was leaning against his fiancé's legs and looking just as happy as Lady while Renly ruffled through his hair.

The two men had made the journey across town on this February morning to get together with the girls to supposedly discuss their nuptials, but the large bag of various wedding inspiration they had hauled in with them had thus far laid largely untouched by the door where Loras had dropped it upon arrival and the foursome had spent much of the day indulging in soft laziness and general gossip.

Sansa folded her long legs beneath her, settling back into her spot on the floor next to the husky, who greeted her with a happy thump of her tail. She took a sip from the mug, setting it on the plush carpet beside her so she could wrap her arms around her dog, tuning back into the conversation at just the right moment, apparently, as Renly was looking pointedly directly at her.

"I honestly can't believe that my brother is going to your thing tonight," he was saying. "I can't even remember the last time he did a public appearance. With people. That's usually what Davos is for."

"Who's Davos?" Margie piped up from her blankets curiously. "Stannis's... boyfriend?" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Sansa raised an eyebrow of her own into Lady's furry neck.

Renly chuckled. "Practically. He does everything for my brother. His assistant, I suppose. I'm convinced Davos is the only reason Stannis sells anything at all- could you imagine if prospective customers had to deal with Stannis directly? Gods, they'd go running for the hills in fright!"

"Aw, he's not as bad as all that," Sansa scratched Lady behind the ears as she felt her own go a little hot.

"Yeah, says the beautiful goddess who's tempted the hermit out from his shack in the woods," Loras teased.

"I didn't... tempt... anyone. To do anything!" Sansa could feel the blush spreading from her ears and across her face. "And, besides, it wasn't me... Lady likes him. And she's a good judge of character."

"Well, you've done something- I don't think it was the dog." Renly countered. "You've talked more to my brother in the last week than I have in years."

"That's kind of... sad," the blankets formerly known as Margaery Tyrell sighed.

"Tell me about it." Renly was laughing it off, but Sansa could see the underlying hurt written plainly across his face.

She shuffled across the floor, reaching out to take his hand in her own and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You did a good thing, reaching out to him and asking him to be a part of your wedding, Ren. It's good to try and foster a relationship with him before it's too late."

Renly nodded, clearing his throat. He leaned down, winding his arms around his fiancé's neck in a loose hug.

Sansa scooted back over to her coffee mug, taking a sip. "I know! You guys should come tonight, too! I mean, me and Margie will already be there. It's a fun excuse to get all gussied up and eat some fancy food. And you could hang out with your brother!"

Renly rolled his eyes, but smiled. "Sounds like a blast."

\-- 

When Stannis pulled up at the shelter that evening, there were already dozens of people milling around the grounds in preparation, in and out of the large outdoor party tent set up on the top of the hill. Music wafted out of the enclosure on the evening air, but he could still hear Brienne's stern voice berating some incompetent wait staff over the sound of the delicate stringed instruments as they tuned themselves up for the night ahead. 

He was just looking around for Sansa- her tall form, a smudge of red hair in the distance, anything- when she suddenly appeared, running up to his truck as if she had sprung from his very thoughts. 

She made quite a sight- her face done up prettily with make-up but her hair loose and wild about her shoulders; wrapped in a sparkly party dress but with each leg firmly enclosed in mud-caked rubber boots. He was beginning to sense a pattern with this woman. "Stannis!" Her smile was dazzling, though. "You made it!"

Stannis didn't quite know what to say. He cleared his throat as she leaned against his passenger side door, looking at him expectantly through the open window. He racked his brain for some words- any words, anything- but ended up just nodding firmly. "Yes."

Sansa didn't seem to hold it against him. She peered around the cab at the large tarp-covered object in his truck bed. "Is that your auction item?" She asked incredulously. "It's... huge!"

Stannis felt his face go a little hot. "Yes. It's a..." he cleared his throat again. Keep it together, Stannis. "It's a dog house." There. Success.

He had spent the last week wondering what her reaction would be to his surprise, but the real thing unfolding before him now was nowhere close to what he'd imagined. Better, he decided, it was definitely better. 

There was a whole progression of emotion that danced across her face- her blue eyes first went wide, her mouth falling open in a perfect circle of surprise... then a little laugh bubbled out, a sound of pure joy and happiness... followed by a wide, face-splitting grin as her hands came up to each cheek, covering that radiant smile from his view as she jumped around a little bit.

"Stannis! A dog house!" He didn't think anything he'd ever built before had ever caused such happiness in another person. "That is perfect!" He was almost certain that if he was standing next to her she would be hugging him right now. Stannis was most definitely not a hugger, but he found himself a little disappointed that he was still firmly seated in the cab of his truck.

"Seriously," she was still talking to him, still riding that wave of joy. "That is the most perfect thing ever. I can't believe it. I can't wait to see it!" She wrenched his passenger door open, climbing into the cab of his truck as if invading his space was the most natural thing in the world- which, if he considered their track record so far, he supposed it was. "Here, if you follow this road around I can tell you where to park so that we can unload it."


	7. Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone for jumping back into this with me! found this old outline and got roped back into this little headcannon of mine, i know characterizations are definitely a little different from what we've all read before from these two, but i don't know, i just feel like it works!  
>  let's hope writer's block stays far away this time!
> 
> updating tags as i go along.

If you would have asked Sansa only a few days ago what her worst nightmare was, she would have probably jokingly offered up an answer that was maybe something along the lines of 'spiders' or 'clowns'. But now, as she ran around this party trying to keep herself at least in some semblance of sanity, she would definitely say 'this night, here, right now'.

It had all began when a few of the dogs had managed to escape out of the enclosure and Sansa, Brienne, and the other volunteers all had to round them up before they disappeared out into the surrounding woods, running around frantically with various pups tucked under each arm as people started rolling in and setting up their gear. Then, on top of making sure the various vendors ended up in their various designated areas, the catering service had showed up understaffed, and the number of guests ended up at least a third larger than originally anticipated. 

It was crowded, and loud, and Sansa hadn't even had a chance to change back into her heels and out of those damn rubber boots- not that any of the guests could tell with her back here behind the buffet, plating seemingly endless amounts of food onto an endless number of plates, trying to make everything stretch just far enough.

But everyone at the party seemed more or less happy to be there, and an excited buzz was in the air over the night's upcoming charity auction. Sansa had known that their big sell- a one-on-one 'date' with the glamorous Margaery Tyrell- was going to be a popular bid that hopefully raked in a pretty penny for the shelter. It had taken a lot of convincing on Sansa's part, to get Margie to agree to do it, but it was worth it to see how much extra oomph it had brought tonight's function. 

As more guests arrived, however, she was quite pleased to hear that there was almost an equal amount of excitement building around Stannis's surprise, that wonderful dog house.

Not only was it- in Sansa's mind, and as well as anyone else who had two eyes in their head- a stunning work of art, but when whispers of who had donated it to the auction were confirmed, people went nuts. They could hardly believe that an original Stannis Baratheon creation was in their midst! 

Sansa grinned as she looked to the man himself, back here behind the buffet table next to her and practically elbow-deep in hors d'oeuvres. She had to hand it to him- she had almost half expected him to dip out of the party before it even got started, as soon as his dog house was unloaded from his truck. Not only had he stuck around, but when he had seen just how crazy things were getting behind the scenes, he had rolled up his sleeves and offered to help. 

She knew that he was also hearing the excitement and praises of the guests- he had grown silent and more focused on the food in front of him, more than any sane person this side of a kitchen should be. She could even see him getting a little red around the ears, which she was quickly picking up on as something that happened when he was quite embarrassed. It was almost humorous to her that the very people name-dropping him to other guests didn't even seem to recognize the artist himself right in front of them, but she would hazard a guess that, in Stannis's mind, this situation was preferable to him being recognized or- gods forbid!- being put on the spot and having to mingle and make small talk.

Stannis looked up from the food then, and caught her staring at him. Sansa's smile widened despite herself, and Stannis cleared his throat- another nervous habit of his that she was noticing. 

Just as he was about to open his mouth to say something, Brienne came barreling around the corner. "Sansa! Where is Margaery? The band is getting restless. And we definitely need her here before the auction starts."

Sansa threw a look to Stannis. "Did you see her with Loras and Renly?" He shook his head. 

With a frustrated sigh, she patted down her front, then remembered that her dress did not, unfortunately, have pockets. She scrambled down to where she had cleverly stashed her phone in her boot- well, at least there was that advantage over the high heels.

Three missed calls from Margie, and a voicemail.  
"Oh, no," she groaned, pulling up the message on her phone, "no, no, no, don't do this to me..."

"Sanny," Margie's watery voice warbled over the phone and into Sansa's ear. "I am... so sick. I'm so sorry. I think it was that... fucking... chinese food I ate for breakfast." She heard a gagging noise, and a long groan. "If I am dead when you get home, just throw my body in the trash."

\--

Stannis didn't quite know what to do with himself. 

Sansa had dashed off to try and solve yet another crisis. The food had all been served, the party guests all happily eating and drinking their fill and milling around making small talk with each other. Stannis had caught a few curious looks his way, but his usual stern scowl- his 'resting mean face' as he knew Myrcella often called it- seemed enough to discourage anyone from actually approaching him. As he shrugged back into his jacket, he found himself wandering over in the direction of his brother.

"Big brother!" Renly greeted him. "Done playing waiter?"

Stannis's scowl deepened. "Well, I didn't see you offering to help your friend out of a bind."

Renly shrugged into his drink, draining it. "I knew it would all work out, I guess. She had you, didn't she?" 

Stannis couldn't quite pin the tone in his sibling's voice, but didn't like it. He was about to tell him as much when Loras decided to enter the conversation, perhaps more than a little tipsy from his drinks at the bar.

"It seems our dear San has put quite a spell over you," Loras interjected boldly. "I think you might have a little crush on her."

Stannis was positively glowering at this point. Nevermind the fact that Stannis loathed to suffer drunken fools- his brother's fiancé had only even ever spoken to him a handful of times, and Stannis did not feel like discussing any such matter as this with a practical stranger, his future brother-in-law status be damned.

Not that he even had a crush on Sansa- or anyone, for that matter. He was a full grown man, and the very idea of any sort of... crush... was ridiculous.

"It's alright," Loras was continuing obliviously. "She tends to have that affect on people, she's just so damn sweet... Look," he pointed across the crowd. "See, you're not the only one, even ol' Littlefinger can't stay away from her."

Stannis's attention immediately snapped to where Loras's drunken finger was pointing, and Sansa was indeed talking to a smarmy-looking fellow across the way. She appeared decidedly uncomfortable as he- Littlefinger, whatever kind of name that was- rested his hand on her slim shoulder, pulling her closer to talk into her ear.

"Who is that?" Stannis found himself asking. "Littlefinger?"

"Petyr Baelish. He's a photographer," Renly supplied. "She used to work with him a lot. He's apparently been rather upset that she's effectively retired and deciding to spend her time with a different kind of dog instead."

Stannis watched as Sansa managed to break away from Littlefinger's heavy-handed advances. Good for her.

He then looked over at his brother, who was watching him intently. He bristled in annoyance. "What is it, Renly?"

Renly just shrugged once more, looking around for another drink.

\--

"I couldn't possibly do that," Sansa shook her head firmly. "No way. No one would even want me!"

Brienne was giving her That Look. "Come on, don't be ridiculous. This was all your idea anyway, to have that date be a prize! With Stannis's donation, there's less pressure on this being a moneymaker, thank the gods." She shuffled on her feet. "It's not like it would be me going up there. It'd still be a date with a beautiful woman."

Though the implication her friend was making pained her, Sansa supposed she understood. 

"But people are excited about it," Brienne was continuing right along. "So we can't just pull it off the table. And the reservation is already made. We need you, Sansa."

Sansa groaned, burying her face in her hands. Yes, this was most definitely her nightmare.


	8. Dance Lessons

As the music died off, Brienne stood and made her way to the small platform that served as the makeshift stage at one end of the party tent. 

"I just wanted to say a quick thank you," she said, raising her champagne flute slightly towards the gathered crowd. "This place would be nothing without all of you, without your help."

"Here, here!" a voice rang out from the back.

Brienne smiled. "Tonight's silent auctions are going to be winding down soon. The bidding sheets are over there," the tall blonde motioned, "if you haven't seen them yet. There is still time to bid! Speaking of the auctions, though..."

Sansa, who was standing off to the corner of the stage with a few of the other shelter volunteers, felt her stomach drop in dread.

"I know many of you are disappointed that Ms. Tyrell couldn't make it tonight. Due to her... illness, she sadly will not be able to attend the date with the winning bidder tomorrow night, either. But! Before you get too sad..."

Here. Goes. Nothing.

"Luckily, we have Sansa here," Brienne was pointing to her, now, and Sansa knew her face had to be as red as her hair. "Many of you know this beautiful face, especially if you've been here to visit us at the shelter. She is an integral part of operations here! And she has... volunteered to stand in for Ms. Tyrell on tomorrow's prize date."

There was a wolf whistle from someone in the back of the crowd, and titters of laughter.

Sansa was on fire with embarrassment. She tried to give a little wave and a smile, but all she wanted was to simply melt into a puddle and disappear. Actually, not quite- she also wanted to wring Margie's neck. 

Sansa couldn't even hear the rest of Brienne's little speech. There was clapping and good-natured chuckling in her ear from Podrick, Brienne's assistant, as he nudged her shoulder and made some kind of joke about her finally getting a date, or something. Sansa didn't quite make it out through the ringing in her ears, or even care at this point.

She felt kind of like a zombie as she made her way through the people to the back table where Stannis was sitting, alone.

"Where's your brother? And Loras?" she asked. Her voice felt like a frog's croak coming out of her throat. She sank down into the empty chair across from him quite dejectedly.

Stannis motioned over her shoulder to where Renly was slowly swaying with his arms around his lover, some kind of drunken half-dance to the music that had started up again.

"Our mother made us take formal dancing lessons," he was saying. It was a random bit of information- only the tiniest of morsels- but Sansa found herself forgetting about her upcoming date and leaned in, intrigued. Stannis didn't seem the type to offer pieces of himself all willy-nilly. She found herself curious to know more, and hoped he would continue. 

"Well, me and Robert, that is," he corrected himself. "Renly was only four when our parents died." He pushed his chair back from the table but didn't stand. He seemed agitated. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, and rubbed his face with his hands.

He looked as tired as Sansa felt.

Sansa's heart hurt for the two brothers. She could relate quite a bit- her own parents' accident five years ago still ached fresh enough; she didn't think an additional fifteen would make it much better.

Her sweet and nurturing instinct was trying to convince her to go over and give this man a hug, but her logical brain was most definitely telling her to snap the hell out of it and keep it together. She compromised by folded her hands in her lap, and willed herself to stay seated.

"Don't tell Renly I told you this..." she finally whispered over to him conspiratorially, "but he is a... just terrible dancer." When he looked up to meet her gaze across the table, she supplied him with a cheeky grin. "It's bad- even when he's not half drunk and having to carry Loras around the dance floor."

When that earned her a chuckle- from Stannis Baratheon! A bonafide chuckle!- she felt immensely proud of herself. It wasn't a hug, but would do just fine. Then, she had an idea. 

"Maybe you could help him!"

Stannis raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm not sure how good of an idea that would be. I am probably quite rusty."

Sansa's grin only grew, and she rose to her feet and held out her hand. "Well. Let's just see about that."

\--

Stannis Baratheon was not a share-er. He both recognized and accepted this fact about himself, and it never really gave him much trouble. As much as he detested mundane, pointless small talk, he simply found that opening up about himself- or worse, his feelings- to be at least equally as cumbersome. 

And it wasn't just that he didn't want to, due to his generally quite and introspective nature. He often, honestly, just didn't see the point. Stannis knew that he wasn't too terribly interesting; he couldn't think of a situation where a person would even probably care what he would have to say in the first place.

At least, until this Sansa Stark came along.

He didn't know what came over him- it was as if his mouth had just opened and the words about his parents came out all on their own without even bothering to ask Stannis himself for permission. He immediately felt a little flustered, and couldn't quite meet her eye even as she leaned in, closer to him, with interest.

That's was it, though, wasn't it? She was... interested.

It wasn't just that she was a generally kind person- though she was, without a doubt. He had witnessed her kindness this whole evening long as she had darted around to try and solve everyone's problems, even to the point of offering herself up on the proverbial silver platter for this prize date in the stead of her friend. 

It was that she truly seemed... intrigued by him.

Then, before he could hardly register what was happening, she had her hand out and was reaching for him, her wiggling fingers and dazzling grin an invitation. Much like his earlier words, his own hand acted of it's own accord and slid into hers, and she was pulling him in the direction of where Renly and Loras were still dancing- if you could call it that- and Stannis almost choked when he realized that she was intending to dance with him.

This was, by far, one of the strangest nights of his life. 

"Excuse me," a firm hand came up to his shoulder, stopping the pair in their tracks as they made their way amongst the other partygoers. "You must be Stannis Baratheon?"

He first looked to Sansa, to the brief annoyance that flirted across her features, before turning to look at their intruder.

That Littlefinger fellow.

He was just as smarmy up close as he had appeared from across the party when Stannis had first saw him earlier that evening. 

"I am," he answered tersely. "Have we met?"

"Oh, no," the smaller man chuckled. "We haven't met. Though I am certainly quite familiar with your work! I even had a piece of yours myself, a beautifully hand-carved sheesham chair. I was sad to see it leave my collection, but- as they say- money talks, no?"

Stannis did not like this man, he decided with a scowl, and not just because he disliked most people in general. There was something about him that rubbed the wrong way.

Sansa was shifting on her feet next to him, agitated. She swayed into him, standing a little closer, and Stannis realized that he was still holding her slender fingers. They wiggled against his calloused palm, but made no effort to escape his grasp.

Littlefinger's gaze also fell on their joined hands. 

"I hate to interrupt," he said, sounding anything but, "but I just wanted to let Ms. Stark know how... pleased I was when I heard that she would be having dinner with me tomorrow night in Ms. Tyrell's stead." He turned his attention to Sansa. "It will be just like old times, won't it, sweetling?"

\--

When Petyr had come out of nowhere earlier that evening, cornering her with his simpering flirtations, Sansa had been rather proud of herself for more or less keeping herself together. Even without Lady by her side, she had felt strong, and had left him behind with her head held high.

Now... Sansa felt like she was going to puke.

"I need to use the restroom, excuse me."

Without waiting for a response or acknowledgement, she was out of there- away from Stannis, away from Petyr, away from the party altogether. Suddenly everything was too loud, too close, and she tore out of the party tent and into the chilled February night, gasping for breath.

She could feel it coming, the pain in her chest- right there between her breasts, like someone was trying to pry her rib cage open with an ice pick- and she struggled to breath. Her throat felt full, and her head was spinning.

A panic attack.

Pressing her hands to her chest, she stumbled away from the party until the music and noise was behind her, faded into static. She fell to her knees on the grass and dirt.

She wished that Lady were there next to her, with her soft coat of fur and friendly, understanding eyes; her cool nose pressing into Sansa's hand, gently nudging her back away from this terrible emotional cliff edge. Protecting her.

She felt like she was dying, and a part of her wished that she just would.


	9. It's A Date

Sansa lifted up her blankets and slid gingerly between the cool layers. Her head was still pounding and her limbs felt like they each weighed approximately sixty pounds each, the residual affects of her earlier panic attack still lingering in her system.

She turned on her side, making room for Lady's large form curled up next to her. The husky was already asleep, already snoring, and Sansa buried her fingers in her soft, snowy fur and pressed a kiss to the back of her scruffy neck.

As she shifted around, trying to get comfortable, her gaze fell to the cellphone plugged in and resting on her bedside table.

Stannis had tried to call her. Back at the party, after she had not returned. She had been embarrassed about her reaction to Petyr, and hiding in Brienne's office as she waited to calm down enough to just simply drive home. She figured that she'd done enough that whole evening, trying to keep the even running smoothly, and surely they could close things down and wrap things up without her assistance. 

She didn't want to see anyone, or talk to anyone- she just wanted her bed and her dog and hopefully a deep and dreamless sleep to help forget about everything.

It wasn't her first panic attack, but had been the first one she's had in quite a while. When she had recognized that it was happening, she knew she just needed to ride it out someplace quiet.

However... now that she was here, safe and sound in her bed, she felt a twinge bad for not at least saying goodbye to Stannis. He had helped her so much this evening, with everything. She couldn't recall if she had ever even said 'thank you' to the man who had obviously ventured so far out of his comfort zone for her benefit.

Now who was the jerk?

Steeling herself, she plucked the phone off the desk and checked the time. It was late, but worth a shot.

\--

'stannis- i didn't want to call, if it was too late and you were already in bed. but i wanted to say thank you for all of your help tonight. i'm sorry for leaving so suddenly, but i was not feeling very well. hope you didn't have too terrible of a time and made it home safe - xo sansa'

Stannis read the text at least twenty times. He would admit that he had been worried when Sansa had just disappeared from the rest of her party. He wasn't completely heartless, it seemed, despite popular opinion- when she hadn't reemerged, he had called her to check in and see if she was alright.

After that encounter with Littlefinger she had seemed quite shaken and upset, and he had found himself wanting to protect her. Comfort her, even. It was a strange feeling he was carrying in his stomach over the whole thing, over this odd young woman that he barely even knew, and though it was not necessarily unpleasant he still did not know if he liked it.

Her text didn't mention the auction, though. So she must not be aware of the results. He found his hands getting a little clammy at the thought. 

He would admit that he had acted quite... rashly. It seemed the whole night had been full of moments where he just simply didn't know what came over him, and that auction was just another perfect example to be thrown on top of the pile. 

He hadn't done what he'd done just for Sansa's sake- though he figured she would not be objecting to being obligated to spend her evening with Littlefinger.  
Ultimately, Stannis had placed the winning bid on Sansa's date mainly because he got a sort of satisfaction from being the one knocking that smug, self-righteous grin off of that weasel's face.

And, oh, that moment had been glorious. 

Baelish had been so sure of himself, he hadn't even bothered double checking the bidding sheet as the auction's final moments were called. It had been almost too easy. And when Stannis's name had been called instead of his, he had pouted like a petulant toddler having his favorite toy snatched away. 

Stannis, of course, was not even planning on actually holding her to it and making her spend the evening with him- though his stomach did a little flop at the thought, and he swallowed hard. But surely she would appreciate knowing that her night wouldn't include Petyr Baelish.

\--

Sansa had almost dozed off completely asleep when her phone began vibrating in her hand. Startled slightly, she brought it to her ear in the dark. "Hello?"

"Ms. Stark," the deep voice on the other end greeted her. "I mean... Sansa."

Sansa found herself smiling into her pillow. "Stannis! You got my message."

"Yes." There was a tentative pause. "I was sorry to hear that you were not feeling well. I hope you're not coming down with your friend's illness."

"Ah," she felt a little sheepish at her half-fib. "I'm sure I'll be just fine here after a good night's rest. Have to get... feeling better. For my date."

Stannis was silent for a long moment, and if not for the sound of his breath across the line she would have thought that perhaps he had hung up on her.

"About that," he finally said. "That Littlefinger fellow. Petyr Baelish."

Sansa felt her mouth go dry in nervous anticipation. Here it was. He was going to ask her questions now, ones she didn't want to answer, about how exactly she knew that rotten man- she knew that he had to be curious, how could he not? Especially after her little performance and disappearing act earlier? Her mind was racing, trying to form a coherent thought into a sufficient explanation, but Stannis was continuing on with or without her.

"I outbid him," he said.

Sansa was not quite sure if she had heard him correctly. "You...?"

"Outbid him. On the auction."

A storm of different emotions swirled around Sansa in that moment as the meaning of his words sunk in. Overwhelmingly, relief, at not having to see Petyr again- but tinged with a fair amount of shock, at the fact that Stannis would do something... for her... that was so incredibly... 

Sweet.

"Oh, Stannis-" she breathed. "You didn't have to-"

"I know, I just wanted to. You seemed... upset. That's why I had tried to call you."

Aww. He had been worried about her! She felt warm all over at the thought. Butterflies stirred in her stomach.

"And," he was continuing on, "I just wanted to tell you that I don't mind simply... donating the money. No strings attached. There's no need to go on... on the date. With me."

Sansa couldn't wipe the stupid grin off of her face even if she wanted to. He sounded so unsure of himself and self-depreciating- as if that was obviously the last thing she would ever want to do. 

Well, he was certainly going to be in for a surprise.

"Are you saying that you wouldn't want to have a date with me?" She teased him. "Am I not your type?"

She could hear him choke a little, and knew that he was getting terribly flustered. She giggled.

"I didn't mean... to imply..." he was clearing his throat, and most likely cursing her very existence. "I mean, obviously..."

"Do you already have plans?" she asked, throwing him a life preserver. "I would love to go on this date with you, if you wanted to."

"No, I have... no plans. But-"

"Great! It's a date then. You can pick me up at seven." She wished him goodnight, hanging up before he would have the chance to change his mind about the whole affair.

Placing her phone back on her bedside table, she snuggled back into her pillows and blankets, her mind happily buzzing at just how this night had ended up. 

Talk about a roller coaster!

She was slowly drifting back off to sleep, mentally going over her wardrobe to decide what to wear. She knew the restaurant was quite fancy. And she had a beautiful new red dress that she still hadn't worn out anywhere, but would the red be too much? Especially considering it was going to be...

Sansa sat straight up in bed, horrified. 

Valentine's Day.

She sank back with a groan, hands over her face. A date with Stannis. A real, official date. On Valentine's Day!

What the hell had she just gotten herself into?


	10. Mr. Darcy

"No, no," Margie waved her hand dismissively from where she was perched on Sansa's bed without even looking up. "Not that one. You look like a Sunday School teacher in that one."

Sansa looked down at her dress, rubbing her hands down the pale pink fabric, the small pearlescent buttons that dotted the front. "You think so?"

Margie rolled her eyes. "Yes." She squinted at her foot propped up in front of her face, dabbing the red polish on her nail. "You should wear black. Something... sexy. Dress like you want to get laid, girl!"

Sansa scoffed, turning back to her closet as Margie looked back up from her toes with a smirk.

"Oh, come on, don't act like you haven't thought about it!"

Sansa was glad her back was turned so that the embarrassment at her friend's words would hopefully go unnoticed. Would she ever stop blushing? It felt like her face was almost constantly on fire nowadays. The flames only intensified as Margie's words recalled the previous night's dream, which had most definitely starred one Stannis Baratheon.

A very... naked... Stannis Baratheon.

"Maybe I have," Sansa finally said, with more confidence than she felt. "What's so bad about that?"

"Absolutely nothing!" Margie was scrambling off the blankets in a rush to get to Sansa's side, wet toenail polish forgotten in her excitement. "Oh, my gods, Sanny! Have you really?" She was squealing. "I mean, of course you have. Stannis is... dreamy." She shivered exaggeratedly.

"'Dreamy'? You think so?" 

Margie was nodding like a madwoman. "Oh, yeah. He's got that whole Tall, Dark, Handsome thing. And so serious. It's all very... Mr. Darcy." She waggled her eyebrows with a laugh. 

Sansa was laughing now, too. "He is totally a Mr. Darcy." She bit her lip. "I'll admit, I'm surprised on how much I like him. He's actually quite sweet, once you get past all that prickly exterior. He's just... interesting. But he's a tough nut to crack."

"Well, you, my dear, are just the gal to crack him! I just know it. You're quite a catch yourself, you know. You just need to finally let someone in again." She reached out, squeezing both of Sansa's hands. "You're going to kick this date's ass."

Sansa worried her lips between her teeth. "I don't know. I'm actually kind of nervous about the whole thing. I feel like I shouldn't have pressured him into doing this. On Valentine's Day!" She groaned.

"What. Are you even. Talking about." Margie looked as if she wanted to shake her by the shoulders. "Uhm, Renly and Loras totally filled me in, by the way, about the whole party. It's... obvious... that he thinks you, like, hung the damn moon. And I wasn't even there! You're welcome, by the way."

"Oh, yes, thank you so much," Sansa deadpanned sarcastically.

"Whatever. Trust me, the man wants to go  
on this date." Margie reached into Sansa's closet, riffling through a few hangers before pulling out something small and black. "Just wear this and invite me to the wedding."

\--

Stannis stood in the lobby for a few moments, trying to compose himself here before he rang the buzzer connected to Sansa's apartment. He was not the kind of man who got nervous, per say, but he felt a certain amount of electric energy buzzing through himself in anticipation of the evening ahead. 

He thought back to the look of complete shock on Davos's face when he had shared the news that he had a date. 

It wasn't that Stannis had never taken a beautiful woman to dinner before, Davos had explained. It was more the innate romanticism of a date on Valentine's Day, of all days, that had thrown him for a loop. "It's just completely unlike you!" Davos had laughed, clapping his shoulder.

Stannis couldn't disagree with his friend completely- he supposed that he had never been the type for grand gestures or heavy-handed romance. It always seemed so frivolous and, frankly, quite ridiculous to him. An embarrassment, more than anything, for every party involved- and that was the kind of thing he could certainly do without.

He wondered what kind of girl Sansa was. So far, she had been such a whirlwind of contradictions and surprises that he truly did not even know what to expect. 

Did she like... romance? Would she be disappointed to have to spend her evening with such a boring man, so much older than herself? He didn't feel so old, and he knew that he kept himself in shape, but his hairline had certainly began to recede... and there were a few more creases in his face than he had ever really noticed before, creases that were clearly visible upon closer inspection in the mirror as he had prepared for this date.

Would she be wishing that this was date with some starry-eyed, handsome young man who would be more than happy to flatter and fawn over her all night? He felt he hadn't exactly misrepresented himself to her thus far, but by even agreeing to this she was perhaps expecting something that he was not equipped to supply.

Stannis looked down at his empty hands. Should he have brought flowers? Or... something?

What had he gotten himself into? 

He shook his head slightly to clear it- to center himself, he supposed, to focus- and shook out the sleeve of his blazer to check his watch for the time. 

Seven o' clock. On the dot.

He let out a long exhale and pressed the button. "I'm coming right down!" Sansa's voice immediately called out through the little speaker. 

Moments later, the elevator across from him let out a 'ding!' to signify it's arrival, and the doors slid open at a snail's pace.

He wasn't nervous. He wasn't. 

When Sansa emerged from the elevator, though, he was definitely... floored.

He couldn't help but recall the way she had looked when he had first laid eyes on her. That wrinkled dress, those mismatched boots. It felt so long ago, now, when he had met that disheveled mess of a young woman. He could hardly believe that it had only been, what? A week ago?

She looked almost like a completely different person now. 

Her aurburn hair was sleek and straight, with a deep side part and hanging long over her shoulders. Her makeup was dramatic- a dark, smoky eye that made her blue eyes look almost iridescent; a bold red lip. And her dress...

Stannis knew he probably looked like a fool, practically gaping at her as she crossed the lobby to where he stood, but he felt powerless to do anything about it.

Her dress was tight, with a small gold belt cinched at her waist. The short skirt ended well above her knee, with a plunging neckline- one that, if she had a larger bust, would have been positively indecent. The exposure of her long pale legs, ending in impossibly high black heels, was balanced out by the dress's long, fitted sleeves.

She looked beautiful. More than beautiful- ethereal.

Maybe he was just slightly nervous. 

He cleared his throat, trying to come up with something to say to her that would make him appear as if he still maybe had a single thought in his brain, but was fumbling. Stannis felt like all the breath had been knocked out of his lungs.

Then, this beautiful creature was standing in front of him, at arm's length. She was still breathtaking, of course, but now he could see that little teasing glitter in her eye, the quirk of her lip as she grinned at him. The dusting of freckles across her nose. The single white dog hair resting on the shoulder of her fancy black dress.

The little pieces of Sansa that were poking through this glossy and glamourous exterior.

"You ready to go?" she asked, taking his arm with a smile.

Stannis nodded. He plucked the stray hair from her outfit. "Yes."


End file.
